


Crossed Words

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:33:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>be warned: questionable humor and bad puns</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossed Words

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to prompt from Tea And Swiss Roll Weekly Obbo 221a: "25 Words that Simply don't Exist in English"

The quick zip of paper being pulled from the typewriter, the crackle of said paper being crumpled into a ball and the soft smack as the bundle hit the far wall and dropped into the bin broke the silence of the nearly deserted rest room. Bodie smiled to himself, attention focused on the crossword in his lap.

“Bloody hell,” Doyle muttered as a fresh sheet of paper was rolled into the typewriter. Bodie’s smile grew.

“Need a word for enjoying someone else’s pain.” Bodie counted the squares on the puzzle.

“Cowley.” Doyle replied, intent on his report.

“Nah, not enough letters – needs – um – 13; starts with “s”.

“Schadenfreude.”

Bodie looked up at Doyle, who continued typing without a pause. “That fits. Thank you, Professor.”

Doyle grunted, took a slurp of his now cold tea and stopped typing long enough to consult his notes. “Don’t know why I have to write this on me own. You were there too, you know.”

“If you will lose a bet, Doyle...”

“Pillock.” The typing resumed, Doyle hitting the keys a bit harder.

Bodie hid his amusement behind the newspaper. “How about a word for someone who asks a lot of questions?”

“Nosey Parker.”

“Nah. This is a foreign phrases puzzle, mate.” Bodie sucked on the end of his pencil, warmed by the choked noise emanating from Doyle’s direction. He watched, satisfied, as Doyle shifted uncomfortably on the wooden restroom chair. “Ah! Pochemuchka.”

Doyle looked up.

“That’s Russian, that is.” Bodie beamed.

“Man of words, are you?”

“Man of the world, Raymondo. Man of the world.”

The peace of the rest room was broken by several squad members, led by Anson, tumbling in.

“What’s this, then?” Anson asked. “Studying for your “O” levels?”

A few of the other new entries laughed.

“Backpfeifengesicht,” Bodie whispered to his partner.

Doyle’s eyebrows rose in a question. Bodie made a fist with his right hand, raised his left to the side of his face and slammed his right hand into it, smiling.

Doyle smirked and nodded understanding, all the while continuing the tap-tap-tap of his fingers on the typewriter keys.

Anson poured himself a cup of tea from the kettle and grimaced as he tasted it. “’orrible, this is!”

“Make some more.” Doyle told him.

“That’d be a steep in the right direction,” Bodie pronounced as Doyle groaned.

“Ha, bloody ha.” Anson dumped the kettle and refilled it. “A right set of prats you are.”

“I sense a bit of hostil-i –tea,” Doyle sniggered.

Anson shot him a dirty look.

“Ah, don’t tea--se him, Doyle.” Bodie drawled, “I’m afraid our friend is suffering from a bit of L’esprit de l‘escalier, mate. 

“Poor gormless lad can’t keep up with us.” Doyle teased Anson. “Bit of a plank, yeah?”

“Charming as always, eh, Doyle?” Anson threw his mostly empty beaker at him, spattering the neatly typed report with brown liquid.

“Oi!” Doyle jumped out of his chair, offending beaker in hand. “Whaddya-“

Bodie stepped in front of Doyle. “Easy. Forgive him, old son.” He patted Doyle on the shoulder. “He can’t help it if he’s nunchi eoptta. Resorting to violence is the last recourse for the socially awkward.”

“Fuck off, Bodie.” Anson slammed out of the rest room, nearly crashing into Cowley. Bodie and Doyle laughed as they heard the quiet, “Sorry, sir.”

Cowley spoke from the doorway, “Bodie. Doyle. My office, now.” He turned and quickly walked up the hall calling over his shoulder, “and I’ll want that report.”

Doyle pulled the tea-stained paper out of the typewriter and sighed gloomily. 

Entering Cowley’s office they found they’d each been poured a glass of scotch. Bodie whooped excitedly. 

“That’s it!”

“What’s it, 3.7?” Cowley asked, unsure if he should be annoyed or amused.

“The work I was missing to finish the crossword. Sgriob.”

“Aye, a good word,” Cowley smiled and raised his glass. “To a job well done, lads. The villains are locked up, no one was hurt and the streets are a bit safer.”

They finished their drinks and Cowley dismissed them. Doyle stopped Bodie on the stairs.

“Sgriob?”

“Gaelic. Refers to the feeling you get on your lip just before tasting whiskey.”

Doyle thought about it for a minute and his face split into a wide grin. “Is there - -“

“Nope.” Bodie shook his head. “No word I know of for anticipating that!”

finis

**Author's Note:**

> Words from website : http://sobadsogood.com/2012/04/29/25-words-that-simply-dont-exist-in-english/  
> Disclaimer: Just borrowing the lads, no copyright infringement intended


End file.
